


lantern lamp shadow

by iceice_ty



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, Memory Loss, Mild Blood, Non-Human Character, Secret Identity, Suh Youngho | Johnny-centric, Very Very Mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceice_ty/pseuds/iceice_ty
Summary: Things that do not care for the light are harbingers. An oppressive darkness fills the bus. Johnny has many questions, despite the risk.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	lantern lamp shadow

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been through many, many rounds of revision. definitely my most conceptual work, I'm still happy with how it came out! enjoy!

Johnny shifted in his cold plastic seat, switching the angle at which his knees were cramped up against the seats in front of him. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling buzzed faintly, dredging up a headache behind his eyes. He tipped his head against the cool glass of the window at his left and glanced around the bus. He was almost alone at this time of night, he always was, the only other souls the driver hidden in his compartment at the very front and a figure in a dark grey hoodie in the back. The figure’s face was barely illuminated in short flashes as they passed streetlamps, but their features remained out of view, hidden by a forward-tipped head and veiled by the flipped up hood. The rain outside pattered against the window and lulled Johnny to drop his eyes half-mast.

The lights flickered for a beat, struggling to stay lit before over half died out. Johnny yanked his eyes open and forwards towards the driver, who remained facing front, not even looking around. Johnny can just make out the shapes of his face in the rearview mirror, unchanging. The buses are old, Johnny realized this must happen often. He checked his phone, the glow from the screen illuminating his seat in the darkened bus. No messages. It’s not like he expected to see any. His battery is low too, hopefully he makes it home before it dies fully. He closes a few extraneous apps, flicking low power mode on in an effort to preserve life. Huh. He’s out of service range. That’s unusual, this route usually has good coverage. Must be the rain, it’s really coming down out there. Cats and dogs his mother would say, smiling with disapproval as he walked in the door, water dripping from every slope of his figure. They pass another streetlamp and the interior of the bus is bathed in an orange glow before retreating back to shadow, half-lit. Johnny locks his phone and rests it on his lap, eyes running another lap of the bus as they slow to a stop. Traffic light. Next to a streetlamp by the intersection, the interior is lit once more, but the reflection of the stoplight in the driver’s eyes makes them glow red in the rearview mirror. The figure in the back is almost indistinguishable amongst the shadows. It seems much darker there, the shadows more solid, reaching out with twisted fingers towards Johnny’s seat in the aura from the streetlamp. Johnny thinks he can make out two faint glowing dots where the eyes would be on a person. 

Johnny blinks hard. The shadows retreat. The light turns green and the bus lurches to a start. For a moment the fluorescent lights flicker on to full power and Johnny has to squint against the suddenly bright light. It’s not worth the effort because they blink out again a minute later. The darkness feels darker now. A shudder slides down Johnny’s spine. He wants to turn his head, to sneak a look at the figure, but some primal voice in the deepest corners of his brain stops him. He keeps his gaze fixed outside the window, eyes strained as he makes an attempt to read the street signs. It’s too dark out and the light of the streetlamps don’t quite reach. He reaches out to swipe away the fog of condensation from his breath hitting cool glass when he realizes he could make out the figure behind him in the reflection of the window

He refocuses his eyes, relying on the dim interior lights to provide enough contrast to create a mirror in the window. He’s not sure why he feels such a need to observe the figure, but it itches under his skin, in direct opposition to the voice in his mind, urging him to avert his eyes. It feels not dissimilar to passing a wreck, the need to watch battling the need to look away. The bus passes a lit-up store, the harsh white light seeping in, providing enough contrast for Johnny to make out more details about the figure. There’s a stain on the front pocket of their hoodie, a dark brown. Johnny feels an uneasy pang of sympathy. He’s spilled coffee on himself before, he knows what a pain it is to get out. The voice in his brain hisses. Johnny tunes it out, curiosity winning out survival instincts. This is the most interesting thing to happen to Johnny in… too long. The figure seems to shrink back from the light, squeezing deeper into their seat. The voice in Johnny’s mind sounds alarm bells, an urge from deep within himself. The voice speaks, old and weathered, and he has the inexplicable image of a craggy depth under miles of oceans. _Things that do not care for the light are harbingers._ Huh. Usually the survival instincts are a silent, disappointed participant in Johnny’s decision-making process. 

The driver coughs, the lights spark back on. The buzz of the fluorescents is louder to Johnny’s ear. Feels like the buzz is directly in his brain. He swears the figure in the back hisses and the shadows surrounding them scatter like rats. The stain on their sweatshirt is decidedly not coffee. Johny wonders if he’ll be stabbed if he stands up and goes over. _Yes_ the voice in his head says. But Johnny feels drawn to the figure, a siren’s song changing his course from smooth sailing to slowly turning his knees away from the window. He’s facing the aisle now, one hand reached out to grasp the outer corner of his seat. He’s going to stand up. He will. Johnny takes a slow breath, tightening his grip against the cold plastic of the seat and tensing the muscles of his thighs in preparation to stand. The voice in his head is growling, warning against this course of action, but Johnny quiets it. He takes another breath, reveling in the quiet in his head, when the bus hits a pothole and dips suddenly. Johnny is braced already, but the figure bounces slightly, almost falling off their seat. The hood slips back slightly and Johnny catches a glimpse of dark red hair before it is yanked back in place by a covered hand. It’s darker now, but Johnny refuses to run away from shadows like a scared child. He sets his resolve, gets halfway to standing-- 

His phone rings. Johnny flinches hard, slamming his knee into the seat in front of him. He curses and hisses loudly between his teeth as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. It’s an unknown number. Huh, the call shouldn’t have gone through then. Johnny hits accept, raising the device to his ear, praying it doesn’t eat away the little remaining battery. He rubs absently at his knee, wonders distantly if it will bruise. _Stop that. I warned you, do not look at it_. A deep voice echoes through the phone’s speakers. It sounds an awful lot like the niggling voice in the back of his head. What. 

“What?” Johnny croaks out, but the line drops. When Johnny glances up the hood of the figure is faced towards him. Johnny can almost make out the shapes of a face, pale cheeks and round, dark eyes. Johnny is about to try and get up again, make another attempt at contact with the figure when the fluorescent lights suddenly come back to life all at once. The brightness shocks Johnny, knocking him once again back into his seat. He thinks the boy(?) hisses. Johnny blinks hard to gather his wits and sees triple streetlamps up ahead, barely a block off. Crap, his stop. He looks back at the slumped figure one last time, part in worry and part in loss. Distantly, he hopes they’re okay. Johnny collects his things and hits the “request stop” button. He sighs, realizing he forgot his umbrella. Oh well. He slips it on over his shoulders and picks up his bag, sliding out of his row. The driver calls out to him as the bus slows down in front of Johnny’s stop. 

“Yes sir?” Usually, the driver just lets him exit out the back. But as Johnny approaches he realizes this driver has gold caps on two teeth. His usual driver does not. 

“Get home safe kid. The storm is supposed to turn bad, go straight home, don’t turn back.” Johnny nods slowly. His eyes are old, and a warmth emits from the depths of the brown in his irises. What an unusual man. 

“Of course sir,” he replies and the doors swing open. Johnny nods again, head dipping. His eyes catch on the figure in the very back of the bus as he does. The shadows writhe. He exits the bus, bracing his shoulders against the downpour. The driver’s warning echoed over and over in the depths of Johnny’s mind. _Don’t look back._ There’s a saying about curiosity. He walks two steps before glancing over his shoulder. The bus is empty as it passes, with no extraneous shadows or masculine figures. What? The streetlight above his head bursts, sprinkling glass around him.

A swarm of darkness envelops him. 

“Sorry to do this to you, but you’re too close to me now and I can’t trust you to keep the secret,” a gravelly voice whispers into Johnny’s ear. Johnny flinches away from the sound. He feels the warmth from a body next to him and whimpers quietly. 

“Shhhh,” the voice soothes. “I won’t hurt you, not permanently.” It’s not comforting, but Johnny relaxes his shoulders anyways, forcibly relieving the tension. 

“What will you do to me?” he whispers into the night. His eyes are beginning to adjust now, and he can make out the outline of the figure amongst the thick shadows. He’s shorter than Johnny, leaner, but the presence he gives off strong enough to make Johnny cower back a little.

“You will forget me, forget this whole night.” He answers.

“I won’t tell, no one would believe me. It’ll be our secret.” Johnny tries to bargain, but the figure just chuckles humorlessly. 

“We aren’t lovers, there is no “us” in this equation.” The voice replies darkly. 

“Well then tell me more, what’s your name?” Johnny asks, heart thudding in his chest. “What harm will it do if you’re just going to erase my memories anyway?” Johnny can see the figure draw back a little, there are no more puffs of hot air against the shell of his ear, but the overwhelming presence of the shadows remains. 

“No human has bartered this much, why do you want to know?” he finally asks. If Johnny squints he can barely make out a tint of red hair underneath the figure’s hood. 

Johnny shrugs. “Nothing interesting ever happens to me. This is interesting.” 

“Ah, human curiosity.” The figure draws closer and the shadows retreat a little. The rainstorm obscured the moon and the street lamps are still blocked out by whatever this figure had done to them. But even with no source of light Johnny can see how beautiful he is. His hood has been knocked back and Johnny can make out the sharp, uneven cut of his hair, one half blood red the other stark white. His eyes are similarly mismatched, one a mesmerizing black, the other brilliant blue. He’s handsome, sharp angles in his eyes and cheeks and jaw. He looks almost human, Johnny would be fooled if they hadn’t spoken, hadn’t heard the unnatural rasp of his voice and references to “humans,” as some kind of other. 

“Why do you hide in the shadows?” Johnny asks, eyes taking in every detail he can. “You look handsome,” he admits. 

The man chuckles, a dark sound. “Because that’s where my power thrives,” he answers. “I’m Taeyong.” 

“Johnny,” he responds. It only feels fair. _Idiot_ , the voice in the back of his head makes a surprise reappearance. 

Taeyong’s grin goes sharp and Johnny realizes just how sharp his teeth are. And how many he has on display when he smiles, more than Johnny does at least. “Well Johnny, playtime is over. I must be going and you must be forgetting.” 

Something twists nastily in Johnny’s gut. “No!”

Taeyong quirks a brow, smirk wiping off his face. “No? I don’t think you understand Johnny,” his name sounds like filth in Taeyong’s voice. “There is no ‘no’ option here. I have answered your question. Did you one better, gifted you my appearance. But I can’t stay in this corner any longer without attracting attention and you cannot be running around with thoughts of me in your pretty head.” Taeyong’s tone is condescending, simpering almost, and Johnny does _not_ think about how that sets butterflies in his stomach. 

Johnny opens his mouth to respond, but before he can his jaw is stuffed with shadows. They feel like cotton on his tongue and he can’t speak, can’t even whimper, the sounds absorbed completely. 

“Sorry Johnny, but it’s time to go.” Taeyong smiles, and his eyes soften. “I’ll make this as painless as possible, okay?” The 180 in personality sends Johnny reeling. Taeyong stalks forward, and he reaches out to grasp Johnny’s temples between his palms. This close he can clearly see the smooth, pale skin of Taeyong’s face and the flecks in his blue eye. Johnny’s breath catches in his throat and he wonders if this is how he dies. Taeyong smiles again, and it’s almost gentle. Johnny stares into the man’s eyes, and then everything goes pitch black. 

The light flickers back on above an empty street, illuminating a pile of salt being washed away slowly by the rain. 

Johnny startles to alertness, suddenly aware of how drenched he was underneath the lit streetlight. He must’ve stopped for something in the rain, but what? Johnny looks around, but the sidewalks are empty. He shrugs his bag up onto his shoulder and starts walking home. At the back of his mind he thinks he can hear whispers from a gravelly voice, but they’re indistinct. Probably just tired from practice. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! please leave a kudos and comment!


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